I have been in a master/slave relationship with the guy my ex-girlfriend started dating after we broke up. She is into twinkish emo guys so I am not surprised that she left me and started dating him. I know this guy and I thought he was very cute. I have a huge foot fetish and he had very effeminate feet (no leg/foot hair, slender soles, long toes). One day he texted me and told me I had to cut off contact with my ex because she was no longer part of my life. Feeling humiliated, I decided then and there to ask him to dominate me and be my master. I offered him half of all of my paychecks to just let me worship his feet and be his foot slave. He agreed and I have been in his servitude for about three months now.

I go to his house and I lick his bare feet. I also tongue bathe his sandals. Sometimes I just lay beneath his desk with his soles on my face as he plays games. Once in a while I spend the night at his house. I lay at the end of his bed sideways under the blankets. He uses my body as a footwarmer for the whole night, pressing his soles into my stomach and sometimes crotch. I always call him Master and on occasion I do errands for him such as picking him up from college, etc. He has said that he wants to castrate me with his bare feet eventually and I said I would be open to it. However, I am probably not going to go through with this because it seems like the pain would override the pleasure. Nonetheless, this is my current situation: being dominated by an 18-year-old scene guy.

Jamilla’s crucifixion

Jamilla was already awake when the sunlight entered her cell. After the Romans had captured her a week ago at the villa of her master, they had locked her up in there. They had stripped her and tied her up tightly, her hands behind her back, she was forced to sit here in this dark cell. She have had a lot of time to think about what has happened, and, more important, the things to come. At first she had been scared to death by the thought of being crucified, but right now she had found peace with it. Jamilla knew what she had done, and she also knew that she deserved nothing better. There was no doubt that, if she was to be killed, it would happen out there for every one to see. She was just to beautiful to let her die in here. After all she was the most beautiful girl in and around the city, In fact the thought of starving in here scared her even more than a public humiliation. Being tied up all the time and at least raped and tortured, imagine taht! No, no, all well considered, crucifixion was the best she could hope for. At least her pain would be over in a few days instead of years. She didn’t dare to think that the soldiers wouldn’t come for her.

But then the door opened and a couple of men gave entered her cell and removed the ropes from her hands and feet. Jamilla felt some sort of relief when she left the cell. They would not let her starve. Thus far she had been very lucky. It was only now that she realized that nobody had abused her until now. She wasn’t raped, she hadn’t been whipped. The fact of being nude don’t scare her, as a slave girl she has experienced this form of humilation many times, it was usual for the female to walk nude trough the city up tot he crucifixion side, while the men are allowed to wear a loincloth.

As they came out of the dark hallways into the inner yard of the camp, Jamilla spotted a long, thin, wooden cross lying on the ground. “Pick it up!” one of the soldiers said. Jamilla walked towards the cross and lifted it on her shoulder. There was no use in trying to resist, which would only make it worse for her. Two soldiers came standing next to her and one of them hung a wooden plate around her neck with her name, her age and her crime carved in it. Jamilla expected them to push her forward in to the streets of the city, but they didn’t. Both of the soldiers were looking at a little door behind them. As Jamilla looked at it as well, she saw an other soldier coming out with a hammer, a ladder and a basket with nails. Long heavy spikes…

“So it ’s going to be a full nailing” Jamilla said to herself. Until now she had hoped that they would only use ropes or at least only nail her hands, but as she could count more than two nails, she knew she wouldn’t be that lucky. The soldier loaded the gear on a donkey and the other two gave Jamilla a gentile push on her shoulder. “Let’s go.” They said and the campgates opened.

Jamilla carried her cross through the narrow streets of the city. It wasn’t very heavy but despite the early hour the sun was already shining hot. As she came closer to the crucifixion site, more and more people were watching and following her, yelling things at her. She noted the views of the men, on her slim body, her well-shaped breasts, with the long nipples. Her master has pierced them years ago, she has to wear rings there, and the nipples has grown considerably. Except her long hair, her body has been shaved completely, even if the pubic hair has started to grow back, her crotch is visible for everyone.

“Look at you, you stupid basterds,” Jamilla said to herself “ shouldn’t you be working? No you just want to see me suffer, you want to hear me scream on the cross, you want to see the extreme fear in my eyes when they nail me to it. Well screw you! You think I’m afraid but I’m not, you think I’ll beg them for mercy, beg them not to nail my feet, but you’re wrong, wrong, wrong! I won’t. In fact I’ll show you that it doesn’t scare me, I’ll show you how a proud girl faces her destiny!”

As she took the last turn to the marketplace, Jamilla felt this strange sensation in her underbelly. She knew she was walking her last few steps ever. On the market place, one of the soldiers gave the order to stop right in the middle of the square. She let her cross slip to the ground, took a few steps back and looked at the people that came to see her humiliation. One soldier held a hand on her shoulder and took back the wooden plate as the other one unpacked the gear. The third one began to declare her verdict and why she deserved it. During that time Jamilla realized that the strange feeling in her underbelly wasn’t fear as she thought it was, but pleasure. Her crotch has become wet, she noticed it. Every single person on the square wanted to see her young, nude body exposed on the cross. She knew she turned on every man that came to see her today, but none of them would ever have her. She would remain an unreachable ideal forever. She knew she could give them a spectacle they would never forget, that would make every other women look like durt.

Right now Jamilla realized that her time had come. The third soldier reached the end of his speech.

Jamilla knew what she had to do, she would show the crowd she was not afraid. Slowly she walked towards the cross, looking at the soldiers. Then she turned around, looked at he crowd and went lying down on her cross. Before one of the soldiers could grab her, she placed both of her wrists on the crossbeam, waiting for the nails.

The soldier that was going to nail her held back his two accompagnons. “No, no, don’t grab her. I want to see if she really can take this.” Jamilla looked at him as he put the first heavy spike right on top of her wrist. There was no one holding her wrists in place, yet she did not pulled them away, when the soldier raised his hammer for the first blow. Jamilla looked closely as the point of the first nail was driven into her wrist. “Aagh!” The pain was more than unbearable, it didn’t just stay in her wrist. Like water spilled on a flat stone, the pain started to run in various directions, all through her body. Yet the nail had only cut a few muscles and flesh. Right now he was only pushing on her wristbones, slightly driving them apart. As much as Jamilla was suffering, she couldn’t move her arms. She could only watch how the hammer came down a second time. This time the nail crushed her wristbones. Jamilla could feel the couldnes of the steel against her bones. Again she could not hold back a short scream. The pain had now turned into a supernatural form of agony. One of the soldiers who was standing next to the cross, noticed how Jamilla was rubbing her beautiful bare feet over the sand in a useless attempt to lighten the pain. Although the nail hadn’t reached the beam yet, she managed to keep her tortured wrist in place. Her most beautiful body was already covered with sweat when the hammer came down for the third time. Finally the nail came out of her wrist again and made his first contact with the crossbeam. Jamilla felt a bit relieved because she thought the wrist part was over. Once the nail was through, it would be easier to bare. But she was wrong. The hardness of the wood made it very hard to finish the job. The executioner needed six more blows to get her wrist fully nailed to the beam, every blow causing Jamilla more and more pain in addition to the already unbearable agony…

At the first blow, Jamilla had pulled back her second wrist. “Aagh!” A short scream escaped her mouth every time the nail went deeper. Finally the last blow was given and the executioner stood up. Shortly he admired his work, then he walked over to the other side of the beam to nail her other wrist. Jamilla didn’t know how she did it, but she had managed not to cry. Although only one of the four nails was in place, she was already covered with sweat. She looked at her unnailed wrist once more, then she placed it on the crossbeam as she saw the executioner approached with the second nail. He looked at her beautiful young face while he went across her wrist with his fingers to locate the bones. When he found the right spot, he place the nail on it, held his hammer high up in the sky. Then he waited for a moment to see if Jamilla really wouldn’t pull down her arm now that she knew what it felt like to have one nailed wrist. Then he started his horrible job.

Jamilla thought she knew what she had to expect, but no one could ever get used to a sudden explosion of pure pain like that. Again her short screams filled the air, again her beautiful bare feet rubbed against the sand, but yet the agony seemed like at least a thousand times worse. Again she felt how the nail crushed some of her bones and drove others apart. It was in this pure sensation of nothing-but-absolute-agony- that Jamilla realized something strange. With every blow she screamed her little “AaAgh’s” as a message to every one on the square that she couldn’t take it any more. But now she realized, as her pain reached a new, horrible peak with every other blow that she wanted more. Though the agony made it quite impossible to keep her wrist in place, as long as the nail hadn’t pinned it to the wood, Jamilla realized she was able to do so, because she loved it. From this moment one, she could kill and love the executioner for what he was doing to her at the same time. She hated and admired him because he was able of hurting her like this. Though her agony reached unknown hights with every blow, she couldn’t wait for the next one. She watched closely how the nail disappeared deeper into her wrist and into the wood. When the executioner stood up after the nailing, Jamilla felt relieved and disappointed at the same time. Her body was under tension, shivering, excited, despite the heat her nipples remain hard all the time, and she notes that her juice has started to leak.

Jamilla looked at her beautiful nude body as the soldiers made preparations to pull up the cross. With her arms spread out like this above her head and her legs a bit opened to feel the sand under her feet for the last time, both her beautiful small breasts with their long and hard nipples and shaven pubic were exposed to the crowd. Yet Jamilla felt no shame, she felt only pain and a deep desire for more pain. Two soldiers were tying ropes to both ends of the crossbeam while the third one was placing some small pieces of wood at the bottom of the longpole so that the cross wouldn’t slide over the sand when they tried to raise it. Then they attached the ropes to their donkey as well. Then the executioner kneeled down at Jamilla’s feet. He grabbed them by the ankles and measured the length of her legs. He placed her feet on the longpole, right next to each other, so that her legs were slightly bent. He looked at it, changed the pose a bit, released her feet and carved a little bit of wood out of the pole, where he wanted her feet to be when he nailed them. Jamilla had observed his actions very well. For a moment she thought he was going to nail her feet before they raised the cross. She had loved the feeling of his hand around her feet. The two soldiers made the donkey pull up the cross while the executioner made sure the longpole would slip into the hole that was dug for it. As they raised her cross and her feet left the ground for the last time, Jamilla felt how her weight was no longer carried by the thin longpole but only by the two spikes that pierced her wrists. She had to scream. Little yelps of both extreme agony and pleasure escaped her mouth while the donkey was raising her cross. As her cross was almost in a complete vertical position, Jamilla spotted the carve made by the executioner to indicate the intended position of her feet. While the soldiers were making sure the cross wouldn’t fall back if they cut the ropes, Jamilla tried out her final footpose. With her feet against the longpole and her legs opened widely because of the roundness of the longole, she decided that it was both a humiliating and an exciting pose. Jamilla looked at her elegant ankles and her adorable toes. Soon her most beautiful feet would be nailed. To feel once more the pain of really hanging on a cross, she moved her legs away from the longpole, so that they were just hanging on either side of it. Now the executioner placed his ladder against the cross and climbed up to fulfill his duty.

As the executioner reached the final step of the ladder, Jamilla lowered her left foot and placed it right on the spot the executioner wanted it to be. He put the nail right on the most central spot of her foot, slightly adapted its pose so that the toes were really pointing towards the ground. Then he began the nailing. Once again Jamilla experienced a wave of fresh agony running through her body. Again she felt how the nail pushed against the bones of her foot and crushed them with the second blow. Again she let out her little yells every time the nail went a bit deeper. Even when the nail entered the wood after the third blow, she didn’t dare to put any weight on it. Her foot was causing her the same amount of agony as both her wrists. Oooh, she loved crucifixion right now; She thanked the people that invented this heavenly torture from the bottom of her heart as the final blows were given. As the executioner finished the nailing of her left foot, Jamilla felt a bit sad. Now her other foot was the only thing left. After that, her agony would slowly fade away … So she put her other foot right next to her nailed one. The executioner brought out the last nail. Jamilla closed her eyes as her bully raised his hammer. Very intensely she tried to analyze the waves of pain that were caused by the final spike. As the bones of her right foot were crushed she couldn’t hold back a small yelp. Also when she felt how the nail tore the skin of here sole apart, she simply had to release a little “ Ôah!” As the nail was driven further into her foot and the wood of the longpole, Jamilla first realized she was being put to death in the most cruel, horrible and agonizing way known in the whole of the Roman Empire, and that she just loved it. The soldier smashed the nail a bit deeper for the last time. Then he went down a few steps and nailed the wooden plate that quoted Jamill’s crime, name and age to the longpole, right underneath her beautiful, nailed feet. “Jamilla, twenty one year old, blonde slave, murder, theft and arson.” Then he stepped down, took away his ladder and together with one of his fellows he went back to the camp. The third one staid to guard Jamilla so that no one would get her down of there.

Although it had seamed a lot longer, her crucifixion had only taken half an hour. Now most of the spectators resumed their work on the market. For Jamilla, the real horror of crucifixion was about to begin. Right now she realized that the pain in her wrists became too much to bare, even for someone who loved it, so Jamilla had to push up on her feet. Putting her entire weight on the nails piercing her feet caused her a wonderful amount of pain, yet she had to let go, if she didn’t want to faint, and she fell back on her wrists. But very soon, again, the pain in her wrists forced her to retry the push up. The Romans had spiked her in a very ingenious way. By bending her legs just a little bit, Jamilla had to face the problem where to put her weight, but she couldn’t suffocate that easy. As she looked around to see what the other people who had watched her crucifixion were doing. Some people were still looking at her, pointing out to each other how well she was nailed. Jamilla herself was also admiring the work of her bully. While she was at it, she saw that she wasn’t bleeding as much as she thought. The only blood Yamilla saw was the blood that had run out of the wounds when the nails were still driven in. Meanwhile the soldier that staid behind walked over to the fountain and took a drink. He didn’t return to the cross but went strait to one of the stalls on the market. He decided to watch over her from there, in the shadow. On the cross, Jamilla was exposed to the sun. Very slowly her bronzed skin was burning. As she saw the guard take a drink, Jamilla became aware of her own thirst. She wondered whether she could ask for some water as well. After a while her thirst became so big she decided to risk it. “Can…can I have some water to, please…?” she moaned. The guard fulfilled her request and put a cup filled with water on the top of his spear. Jamilla drunk it all and asked for more several times, especially around noon when the sun was burning every drop of liquid out of her.

Jamilla now realized that the pain wasn’t fading away at all. She didn’t know why but the spikes kept hurting her as much as they did when they were driven into place. She looked once more to the nails piercing her body. As she could clearly feel, al four of them were smashed through some bones. “I wonder…” she thought. Jamilla tried to move her fingers, but some of them didn’t react to her command. Also her toes weren’t completely movable. The sight of the spikes entering her feet and wrists fascinated her. Jamilla tried to reach the head of the nails in her wrists. Her fingers could only touch the top of the nails. Her excitement still remains, and her crotch has started to leak, she notes the liquid running down the lips, and the it drops down to the sand.

As the sun went down and the market became empty, Jamilla first realized she would never leave her cross again. Even her corpse would be left up there after she died. She wondered what it would be like, if she died. Would she pass out and never awake again? She didn’t know.

Jamilla’s first night on the cross was filled with agony. There was now way of getting some sleep up there. If the pain didn’t keep her awake, then the coldness of the night would make sure she didn’t sleep. The hours passed slowly, way to slowly, but when Jamilla finally thought she was used to it, the first rays of sunlight announced a new day….

As the market became crowded again, people returned to her cross to see how she was doing. "You 're realy enjoying this, aren't you?" Jamilla managed to ask her public. Of course they did. "Guess what," Jamilla moaned as a reply, "so do I..."

According to some spectators who had seen a few crucifixions already, Jamilla was “dancing” real nice. She was pushing herself up on the spikes piercing her feet and falling back on her wrists al the time. Even if she didn’t had to push up to get some fresh air, she still forced herself to do so. It largely increased her pain. It was her second day on the cross, but Jamilla felt far from exhausted. Now she knew why she hadn’t been raped or whipped: If she were still strong when they nailed her to her cross, she would last longer. Once again Jamilla looked at her beautiful body. The nails fascinated her, how they disappeared in her wrists and feet. Only four nails, but they put her in hell. Right now the thought crossed her mind that despite of the fact that she had been drinking quite a lot yesterday, she didn’t have to pee. The sun burned away every single drop of liquid, even the water from the fountain. In the afternoon, Jamilla felt how she was becoming weaker and weaker, how the pain slowly faded. Right now she wished she could live through it al again, from the cell, to the first nail, the moment of triumph when she exposed her completely nude body to the overwhelmed crowd, the nailing of her wrists and feet, her complete crucifixion. Later that day Jamilla lost conscience. She didn’t saw how a rich salesman paid of the guarding soldier and ordered his men to get Jamilla down from her cross. She didn’t even realized the nails were pulled out.

Jamilla looked out of the window as the sun came up. Six months had passed since her crucifixion. Her wounds had completely healed. The salesman had dropped her of at one of his houses in a small village while she was still unconscious. An other girl slave had told her everything. She had never seen him until now. He was standing in the inner yard, saying goodbye to someone. Then he entered Jamilla’s room. “You’re so beautiful” he said. “You’re so beautiful that you can ask me anything. Ask me and I’ll do it!” Jamilla looked at him as he touched her face. “Well, there is one thing you could do…” She answered.

Later that morning, the entire village watched how Jamilla publicly undressed herself. Completely nude, she walked over to the cross and went lying down on it. She smiled at the salesman as he approached with the hammer and the nails. “Nail me!” she said.

I confess that I love it when my boyfriend tells me to lay on the bed and then takes off my shoes and socks, rolls up my jeans to my shins and tickles my feet and ankles lightly with his fingernails before licking and sucking on my soles and toes.

He then flips me over and pulls down my jeans just below my butt and tickles my cheeks before fingering on and around by hairless pink hole with one hand while spreading my legs wider with the other.

Sometimes I'll scream and beg for what feels like days before he finally penetrates my asshole with his rock hard cock and taking me over the edge.

Sometimes when we sit on the couch, I'll stretch my legs out and put my bare feet on his lap, and pretend to be asleep while every few minutes I move around and pressure his hardening cock with my toes, just him tickling my feet makes my heart pound and my dick harden.

Sara is in a fuck harness, legs held wide open, bare feet in the air,stretched wide by the straps, but also legs held firmly apart by two street whores - nothing too pretty - real fuck slags. She is a brunette, with long wavy hair, dark eyebrows, dark brown eyes, a fit and toned body - set off with bikini lines. She is unshaven and her black curly pubes run between her legs all around her puckered asshole. There is a hint of black hair running in a thin line from her pubic bone all the way to her tummy button. She has pretty feet, her toes painted dark red. Her breasts are small but pert, with brown nipples, stiff and jutting out, super sensitised because of her situation. She is totally naked, covered in sweat. All of this in a public restroom off a highway. She has already been 'had' by some strangers, who have cum inside her - cuz there is seed dripping from her into an increasingly large and creamy puddle on the floor under her ass - her cunt hair is all matted and creamy and her pussy lips are swollen and red, pussy open and used, asshole relaxed and coated with cum.....there is a heavy smell of cum and sweat in the air. there is a splash of cum on her tummy where someone has obviously 'pulled out' of her and jetted on her belly (which is a fucking waste!) the soles of her feet are dirty where she must have walked barefoot and naked into the toilet before being 'used'. Someone has written in marker pen on her tummy,, just above the hair line... 'no condoms!'

One of the whores say's "we need more cock for this bitch! - only hung guys - no small cocks, we wanna see her gasp and cry out - - - we have all night to use her - fuck us first bareback if you need to so get full, but unload in her :-)

One of the handful of strangers in the room, his cock out, glistening with leaking seed and pointing stiffly upward says "We should wear skins - what about VD!" The whore laughs at him and states "This bitch gets off on this you fukkin queen - she needs real cock, real cum, real skin! Off strangers! You don't like it - fuck off, now get that foreskin back and unload those balls into this fresh meat!!! No skins, bare cun't - bare ripped cock only!!"

She is just a mess - her hair is matted and whisps of it are stuck to her forehead, she is grinning, a sort of leer really, pure lust - she is half dreaming and half awake, lost in sex with strangers, feeling the sensations from in her belly - her womb full of cum from who the hell knows who....she needs to piss so much, but she does'nt want to spill any cum - every time she laughs or coughs, streams of sperm sputter out of her, down her ass and drip in long streaks onto the floor with a just audible 'splatter' - a couple of guys have just walked in - one is huge! his stiff uncut cock (at least 12 inches) and heavy balls hung in full view - he has postitioned himself between her legs - cock, its foreskin tight back over this swollen engorged purple head, already shining with pre-cum - pointing upward, veins defined and pulsing. He has his hands on her hips - she has her head up - looking down between her legs - cunt hair, soapy and the black hair matted with live sperm - she is so wet - he will be able to enter her - right up to the balls in one clean thrust......'take your time' she says to him, smiling openly - brown eyes looking right into him........'cherish it'.....the two whores take a tighter grip on her legs as she swings in the harness - - just at the right height for him (He grins whilst he thinks about how his wife cries out if he fucks her too deeply, this will be fun, he will be able to penetrate Sara all the way to his balls, she is completely open and will be unable to alter her position. Up to the cervix!) - - each put one hand under her buttocks, pulling both down and out - exposing her insides for his penis. 'Ride her stud' says one of them 'but slow and when you cum, just keep still and deep honey......be selfish - fill her belly with arms and legs - she's ovulating, look at how stiff and dark her nipples are - don't waste it. Fuck her and leave her' - she laughs and Sara grins, but nervously, he is big and thick, and she needs to take all of him in her body - - he slides in - slowly - she gasps - there is an obscene 'sqwelch' as the flood of sperm from at least 10 previous guys is both f***ed through her cervix and deep into her womb, as well as all over the floor and his balls. He is jammed all the way in - only his balls visible - firm, large oval shapes in his ballsack - they were hanging loosely between his legs before he entered her, now, his testicles aching, heavy and charged with cum, they have ridden up and each is tight alongside each side of his swollen cock. Sara has her feet in the air, with him still and firmly between her legs (he is being selfish, holding deep - cock knob jammed right against her firm cervix, he holds still and feels her - deliberately pulsing his own ass, so he can really feel the pleasure - he is rock solid, he will take his time. He has three daughters and a Son at home - he can make babies, he has form, he is a good fuck and he knows it! - Her toes were pointed, but now, due to the effort of taking him, her bare feet are arched back - toes curled upward with the strain....."oh fuuuuuck', she moans - her eyes wide open and startled - "Wow - he is fuckin h huuuuge!" - One of the whores says "Relax honey - take that cock, relax and take if to the root - feel it, feel it". As Sara tries to relax, she looks over his shoulder - the guy with him, with his distended cock already out, has been joined by more men - most already masturbating....she will need to pace herself - the smell of sperm and sweat is almost overpowering,,,,,,,she is going to cum again. Before she does so - he unloads, in long powerful pulses. She can feel each spurt - although her insides are warm, she can still feel each hot splash against the back wall of her abused vagina. One of the whores, seeing what was about to happen - is behind him - cupping his bollocks firmly in her hand - she is sqweeeezing his balls hard, in time with each pulse she can feel "Stay deep babe," she says as he groans in pleasure "Don't pull out" The other whore, who has her hand flat on Sara's bikini line announces to the men in the room "Fuck guys, I can fucking feel that! Each fukkin pulse - I can feel a bulge in her body - she gonna be pregnant for sure!" There is laughter in the room - a distorted sick sort of laughter, this is lust, this is like a common stud farm. Once the guy has finished he starts to withdraw - Sara, her head still up - nipples stiff and hard, looks around her at the scene. As he pulls very slowly out, she arches her back upward so as not to spill his seed, with her cunt full, she masterbates to a climax - moaning as her pelvic floor muscles pulse - taking his hot sperm deep into her, she doesn't spill a drop, he is the one.........Although now spent, his bollocks emptied and now slowly descending in his scrotum to hang heavily in the sac, his cock is still semi hard, a big and thick phallus by any standard, its foreskin now covering most of the distended helmet again, an inch of undelivered sperm hanging out of the open hole, dangling as it slowly stretches away from his cock, white and very thick. The shaft is covered in a white mucus - sperm from previous strangers and Sara's cum mixed together into a thick paste which covers him right up the shaft smearing his balls and the base of his pubic bone. 'Come here hon', says one of the whores, 'let the guys have some pics'. Sara sits half up - supported on her elbows with her legs still wide apart - the bare soles of her feet together. She is open for all to see, swollen red pussy lips and a clear hole into her body all covered in white foam. She is gaping about an inch wide caused by a combination of being fucked by a hung cock and sexual excitement. Her cunt lips are parted perfectly framed by her pubic hair. The stud stands beside her head, with his waist level with her face. His cock hangs half hard, drooping but still engorged, the veins on his shaft thick, like rope. He cradles her head with his right hand and rests it against the outside of his hip so her head is right alongside his genitals - the shaft of his wet cock presses against her cheek - its length running all the way from her eye line to her chin - his bollocks hang just below her face, the intended inference is clear.....i've just had this woman, and she loved it. Her belly is full of my seed. Sara slightly opens her mouth and gazes into the many eyes watching the scene - her stud gropes her left breast, with little care, like a a****l trader testing the stock. 'Photograph her you sick fucks ' says one of the tarts, 'post the images all over the fucking net'!! Sara's eyes flutter as a number of flashes from mobile phones go off - this is a truly obscene sight. The stud moves away from her, leaving a streak of white mess smeared down her face and cheek. ....now its time for more....'OK then' says Sara --'fill my belly'. She stands up, helped by both women. She is about 5'6", shorter that the men in the room. As she stands upright she cannot help but unload some of the sperm and her genital fluids from inside her body - some falls directly onto the floor between her feet with a dull, thick splosh sound - the rest pours thickly and slowly down the insides of the legs, in white streaks. She laughs in a low obscene drawl...'yep - that does it' she smiles.. She smiles gently with her eyes shut, enjoying the feeling of hot fluid on her skin. Two of the men are standing beside her, each with an arm around her waist - she in turn has her arms around their backs with her hands on their shoulders. Both men are fully erect, balls hard and swollen, cocks straining upward - each pulsing in time with the pulse of their hearts. The older man, wearing glasses is big and thick, uncut with a red and raw looking knob end - the hole at the end is more like a little pit than a slit, making him 'open' all the time. Some pre-cum has smeared all over the helmet and all over his retracted foreskin - but its more creamy than clear and Sara can smell it - its strong and pungent. The other guy has a bent tool which sticks out at 45 degrees, covered in thick veins - he has a very long foreskin and even though he is erect it fully covers his knob - the loose skin at the end wet. The shape of his helmet is clearly defined under the hood and is swollen - far bigger than the shaft. Sara gazes at it and licks her lips - 'I can't wait to feel that pull back in my tummy' she says and laughs. 'Slow down, slow down you cunts' says one of the whores - now its time to just use her, slowly. Sara, lie back again honey and just take these cocks in turn' She has a glass bowl in her hands and once Sara is back in the harness, she sits cross legged under her arse, with the bowl. 'If you guys spill any out of her - i'll collect it.......we gonna pore it into her ass at the end!' Now the situation has slowed down, each man is able to take his time enjoying her selfishly - holding back just before climax. There is a steady 'slap-slap-slap' sound as their cocks fuck her in turn. She is half lying back and half upright so that she can look down her belly and both feel and enjoy the sight. Her black pubes are now covered in a white foam, her clit poking out through the 'v' of her cunt lips - sticking up through all the spent semen of her partners. At times, she reaches down her tummy and masturbates with her middle finger, sometimes dipping her finger into herself along with the phallus inside her. No-one talks anymore, her gasps, the sounds of sex and the atmosphere are enough. What a night

Eve’s Cell
Eve woke up after a short time of sleep, for her existed no differences anymore between day or night. The room was lighted by a twilight, the source of the light invisible above her. She was laying on her side on a bed made of concrete, only covered by a plastic mattress, it was dirty, even when she entered the cell long ago, and she could smell the odor of the last prisoner who had rested here. Now her body excretions had covered it even more. Carefully positioning her body upright, she seated slowly up. She was a little cold, because she was completely nude, exposed to humid and mild-temperatured environment of the dungeon. When she was imprisoned long ago, she was forced to strip and never received any sort of clothes anymore.
But she was not completely bare: Shackles, chains and rings were fixed on her body. First there was a steel belt on her waist, containing various rings and eyebolts around it's circumference. Her slender wrists were also shackled, the hands were joined in front of her body, each wrist circled by a bright metal cuff, pressing firmly in the skin, the cuffs were joined by a metal bar, with a short chain which was fixed at the belt. So her hands were hold in the same position the whole time. She had no chance to move them up or down. Also her thumbs had been fixed together by cuffs, covering half of each finger, the cuffs were welded together, so she has not possibility to move them. She moves her hands and fingers a little bit, they are swollen, cold and numb, and the pain begins to pass trough them. She feels the constant pressure of the hard metal into her tortured skin. Looking down on her legs, she notices her ankles, which were locked in the same way, lying side by side, a bride shackle running around each ankle. From between her feet, a longer chain is running down to the floor, connecting to an eyebolt in the center of it. She moved her feet up and down, it was difficult, because also her big toes were joined, like her thumbs, swollen and numb.
When she moved her upper body, she noticed the weight of the small chain which connected her nipple rings. When she was brought in the dungeon, they pierced her nipples, with really huge needles and then fixed the rings there, each one shining clearly and with a reasonable weight. After attaching the chain between them, every movement of her body is transmitted directly to her nipples, which were erect and hard most of the time. They had grown up, meanwhile her breast had got smaller because of the weight loss.
After sitting up she moved her hands and feet more and more. They are cold and numb in her so-called morning, she has to reanimate them. When they had closed the small and very tight shackles around her wrists and ankles them, by welding, it had been necessary to press the metal firmly together. After a while, the skin was bruised by the constant pressure, and circular wounds developed. Her hands and feet began to swell on, the shackles were cutting even more in the skin, and she lived very painful days. But after a while, the situation got better, now the intense swelling had gone, and the pain was bearable. At the borders of the cuffs, the bruised skin is covered with crusts and old blood.
Then she stood up upon her feet and the pain at her ankles got worse and she moaned. She looked down at her slim legs, her once slender and now swollen ankles, and her slightly swollen and blueish feet. She moves up and down on her toes, cautiously, feeling the throbbing of the hard metal on the bones and tendons of her ankles. What a feeling! She wore these shackles since a long time, it must be years, and will do it for the rest of her life. She imagined that there must be more cells und other prisoners, shackled the same way like her. This idea excited her a little bit. Sliding slowly on her soles, straining against the weight of her chains and against the pain, Amber moved to the other wall of her cell. She did not know how long she has been imprisoned in this dungeon, but it mattered little. She was not sentenced, and was not counting her days. She would spend the rest of her life in this cell. Her shackles and the waist belt had no locks, they had been welded on to her body long ago. She has not seen her jailors since she was locked into her cell long ago- food and water is dropped from a chute into a basin in the side of her cell. She had to eat and drink like an animal, bending her body forward.Dragging her ankle chain, connected to the center of her prison, she does her daily, slow lap around and around the cell. It was the only exercise she got, and the only way to fend off the decease of her body.
After a number of laps, finally squatted down against the back, stone, moist wall of the cell. Extending her legs, she stared down at her feet. She always has been proud of them, slender and elegant feet with long toes. Now, they have changed their aspect, her ankles swollen and covered with the scaring crusts. What a torture! She slowly raised her bare feet, higher and higher, until the sudden jerk of the chain restricted any further freedom. Tears started falling from her eyes. She furiously pulled on her wrists, before jerking them up against the chains repeatedly. She sobbed and cried in frustration, her struggle was in vain, there were no chance to get free. Still crying, she returned to her bed of straw in the corner of the cell. Her wrists and ankles are on fire now, hurting like hell. Blood is running down from crusts which have been broken. From now on she avoided any movement of her body. The cold was coming back slowly, also the numbness, beginning in her fingers and toes. Later her hands and feet would feel like being frozen. If she started to move them, the pain will come backYears and years from now, she would still be locked in this dungeon forever chained and shackled, never to see freedom.

When I was eighteen I was visiting my grandparents in Florida with my mom. They didn't live in a retirement community, but the town they lived at was generally full of older people. Most places around closed at 9PM even though they were only minutes from the ocean. My mom and I were on and off getting into arguments the entire visit. She was nagging on and on about everything I did, what I wore, who I talked to. Now being eighteen I did give a lot of sass back to her and talked back all the time which did not help the situation.

On the third day, I managed to get to borrow my grandma's car and spent some time at the mall. While there I had a one sole goal of figuring out how I could make my mom mad. I made my way over to Victoria's Secret and checked out what they had to offer for bathing suits. I managed to get a black thong and matching top that barely held back my 34DD tits.

The next day we went to the beach. My mom, grandma, and grandpa. We claimed our spot on the beach and set up the umbrellas and beach towels in the sand. I then proceeded to take off my shirt and shorts to show off my new suit. The look on my mom's face has been forever engraved in my head. The sheer disappointment from her just filled me with pure happiness. The top barely held my tits back and my pierced nipples definitely showed through. My ass was exposed for everyone on the beach to see. Without hesitation, she grabbed my arm and tried to covered me with a towel, but the damage was done and all she did was cause a bigger scene.

I walked away and made my way up to the tiki bar on the pier and sat down up at the bar. An older gentleman approached me, easily in his late 50's if I had to guess. He was taller, very tan and tone, had peppered hair and a short trimmed peppered beard. His hair was a few inches long and slicked back. He sat down next to me and ordered me a vodka and cranberry. He started talking to me about what just happened on the beach and started complimenting me on my outfit. I played along with him and we kept chatting about everything. By now I was tipsy after he bought me a few more drinks. I noticed him staring heavily at my chest and when I looked down, I had my left nipple exposed to him. The glimmer of the jewelry attached to my nipple just prodded out there for him to see. I let him look more and didn't even bother to cover up. I asked if he liked them. He blushed and choked up when he tried to speak, but he murmured out that he never has seen pierced nipples in the flesh before. I smiled and said maybe you can see more sometime. We exchanged numbers at this point just in case.

By now I was not sober. I asked this gentleman if we could go for a walk as the sun started setting. We walked along the brush at the top of the beach. Then I heard from behind us, my mother. Screaming out my name and rushing her way over to me. The older gentleman covered for me and said that we were out looking for her. However, she was not impressed by smelling the liquor on my breath. She stared at the older gentleman and yelled out "she is only eighteen for god's sake" and grabbed my arm and took me away.

The drive home was silent. I ended up passing out in the back seat of my grandma's car. I woke up around 8:30PM and it was dark. I had a missed call and a text message from an unknown number that said;

"Hey this is Ron from the tiki bar, just wanted to make sure you were able to get home safe. Your mother reminds me of my wife with our kids too."

I messaged him back and ended up unveiling my plans to him. We talked about how my mother and I have been at each other's throats the entire trip. I revealed to him that I liked him and wanted to take him to a spot on the grassy knolls to give him head as a repayment for his generosity. He then asked if we could still meet, and I couldn't say no. It rolled around to 11PM now and everyone was asleep in my grandparent's condo. I snuck into the living room and grabbed the keys to my grandma's SUV and walked out the door. Ron messaged me to meet him back at the same spot before the fun was interrupted. He ended up sharing his location with me so we could link up easier. I pulled into the beach lot, there was 1 other car there. A newer Audi sat in the front row next to the handicap spot. In the driver's seat was Ron. I walked towards the car and Ron exited with a blanket and bottle of wine.

We walked along the beach and he was telling me how embarrassed he was for buying an underage person drinks at the bar. Then talked to me about how he would let his kid's drink as long as they were under his supervision. He told me he had a daughter named Katelyn that was in her second year of college at a Big Ten school in the Midwest. We found our spot and he laid out the blanket. He opened the bottle of wine and we took turns drinking out of it. At one point, I leaned into getting the bottle from him and we started to make out. His hands wandered up and down my body. I held mine on his face as our tongues danced in each other's mouth. He grabbed him wrist and guided my hand down to his groin where I felt his erection. I took off my shirt and unclasped my bra for him, exposing my tits for him to see under the moonlight. He leaned in and started working his mouth all over my nipples, getting the taste of metal in his mouth. I proceeded to undo his pants and expose his massive dick to me. He had short pubic hair that was identical to his beard. His cock was easily one of the largest I have ever seen at being just eighteen. It was veiny and his head was the size of a mushroom. I lunged over him and straddled my legs around his, rubbing my pussy along his erect cock through my shorts. Still letting him taste my nipples in his mouth. My pussy was aching wet as I grinded along his hard shaft, trying to get his erection to slide in a gap in my shorts so I can feel it between my pussy lips.

He asked me to continue with what I was going to do to him earlier. I nodded and worked myself down between his legs. I grabbed hold of his cock in my hands and started stroking his shaft. I used my tongue to start from the base of his shaft up to his head and then stuck his entire head in my mouth. The precum from his cock tasted salty like ocean water. I couldn't take it any longer and needed him. I proceeded to give him a blow job while I worked my shorts off down at my ankles. His head was leaned back and he was moaning as I sucked. I made myself back up to his face, then guided his large erection into my pussy.

His moans began to pick up pace as I grinded myself on top of him. I was so turned on taking him all inside of me. I leaned myself back and gyrated my hips on his dick, holding him all inside of me. He told me he was getting close, but so was I. He grabbed my hips and pulled myself over him. From underneath me he started thrusting deep inside of me, stretching me out at he pulled all the way out then re-entered balls deep into my eager pussy. He then surprised me and said "oh fuck Katelyn I am going to cum soon" then as he fucked me, he would not stop saying Katelyn's name. I picked up the hints that this was a fantasy of his, and I wanted to make sure I fulfilled it. I then said "fuck me daddy" and he kept going on about how good "Katelyn's pussy" felt wrapped around him. I proceeded to tell him to fuck me, then asking turned into begging. I was gushing juices all over his fat cock and then started to beg for it. "Fuck me harder daddy." and "cum deep inside my pussy daddy" were repeated over and over. He tried to pull me off of him so he could pull out, but I stood my ground and kept riding him, begging for his load inside of me, then it happened. He thrusted one last time and held himself deep inside of me. I felt his balls unload everything he had into my fertile teen pussy.

I got myself off top of him and noticed his throbbing cock still going. I wasted no time to continue giving him head. Tasting my pussy juices and his cum all over his shaft. He was still erect and throbbing and I kept on sucking. His juices seeped down my thigh and spilled onto the blanket. He didn't lose his erection and he was ready to go for round 2 now. I bent over on all fours for him and he got behind me and slid into my cum-filled cunt. I kept up with the act, but instead of just calling him daddy, I asked how much he enjoyed Katelyn's pussy. He grunted and moaned as he kept calling me Katelyn. I begged for him to knock me up. He kept up the pace and announced to me that he was going to cum again. So I stayed there on all fours and let him has his way with "Katelyn's pussy". His second load inside of me, was as big as the first. I felt the power of his shaft throb as his balls were emptied again.

We finished up and he walked me back to the parking lot. The entire walk back, his loads were oozing out of my pussy and down my legs. We made it to our cars and went on our separate ways. I glanced at my phone with a dozen missed calls and tons of text from my mom asking where I went. I responded back with "just hanging out with my friend."

Camille came to work with me one day, a few months after we’d met. It was ladder work, which is why she wanted to come. I work alone mostly. And she likes being up on the ladder. I built a business taking care of people’s homes. When people ask me what I do for work, that’s what I tell them, I take care of people’s homes, but the real answer is so much more. On this day with Cam we’d be scraping window trim. But the next day is car transportation to and from the airport. And the day after is finding and fixing a small leak, but most likely replacing the dishwasher, and then repairing the flooring from the damage. Oh, and then I have to pick up clothes from a customer and allocate them elsewhere, but not before rebuilding a screen door and making and installing shelves for a local coffee shop. But on this day we’ll be on ladders scraping window trim. Which is why Cam wanted to come.

Cam stepped out of the bedroom that morning into the hall as I was exiting the bathroom. “How does this look?” She asked me. Referring to the outfit she chose to wear to work that day, she showcased it with an impromptu hallway-width catwalk turn. Unbelievable, I told her. “It’s not too long?” She asked. Referring to her skirt. Seems just right to me. Oh, good! She replied excitedly with a short hop and tail wiggle as she proceeded back into the bedroom to finish ablutions.

Camille is a short girl at five foot even, and very petite. She’s young and pretty with striking blue eyes and shoulder length dirty-blonde hair. But what attracted me to her most was and still is her playfulness. Cam doesn’t tend to take things too seriously, which I’m working on myself. Where I would maybe think far too long about something that simply doesn’t matter, Cam just goes for it and calls me a silly goose. And she’s got this ability to surprise me every time. Less so now as we’ve been together for sometime. But still from time to time she gets me. Like every day really. And to my weaning dismay, tending toward total approval to the point of following suit, ninety percent of the time her playfulness is sexual in nature, or rooted in some sort of sexual connotation. Sexual, kinky, naughty, taboo, and sometimes just downright filthy, she’s one hundred percent comfortable with her body, expressing herself sexually, speaking her mind, and she doesn’t wince easily. She’s a free flowing form of one hundred percent woman. She’s nice, she’s thoughtful, caring, loving, and an overtly naughty sex crazed being. Who wouldn’t love that.

For example: Now this is an extreme case, but it gives insight into who she is. Now let it be known, neither of us have a desire to play in this way, but Cam always jokes around in an attempt to push the boundaries, my buttons, and get me to loosen up more and more. SO we’re walking down the road one day and (Oh, God, I can’t believe I’m telling you this. Okay here goes.) So we’re walking down the road and I noticed some dried dog poop. I grabbed her and said, “Look out for the poop. Don’t step in it.” So she says to me, and I quote, “Dare me to lick it?” I’m like, Good Lord girl, no! “What’s the big deal? It’s just poop.” She told me. Question asked, question answered. - Now I need to tell you before I lose you here, this story is not about poop. I promise you. This is just an indicator into who she is. So Cam proceeds to get on her hands and knees, on the side of a fairly well trafficked road, and egg me on. And to boot, and I guess this is pertinent information, Cam doesn’t exactly believe in wearing underwear. I mean, she will if no other clothing is covering it. At which point she calls it outerwear. But if she’s wearing even the shortest of dresses or skirts, any other accompanying garments are out of the question. So there she is, this young, pretty, sexy thing, bent over on the side of a public road, her ass clearly visible to anyone who happens to pass by, daring me to dare her to lick dog poop. And if I say something such as referring to the fact that someone might see her. Her only reply ever is always in the vein of, let them see, somebody's gotta make the world a better place. It’s not that she wants people to see, or even goes out of her way to ensure that they do. But Cam is just being Cam, and what happens, happens. I aspire to her nature of play and carefreeness, especially when it comes to sex, or simply expressing myself. I’m getting there, and I’m becoming less reserved about it. That’s why I’m writing this. I told her I would.

Oh, good lord, she just came through the room, or pranced through is more like it. Panties on her head, and a bra around her crotch area. “Is this how you wear them, David?” She asked me. Um, no, but getting closer!

So we’re off to work. Now this is a real job with real work that needs to get done. Cam is a hard fucking worker too. Bright, intelligent, intuitive when it comes to getting shit done. What needs doing, where, when, how; all the things. This isn’t just play time. Or I should say, this isn’t solely play time. But as Cam says, most time is an opportunity for play time.

So we get to this house and Cam and I begin setting up for our day. Occasionally people are shuffling by. It’s a friendly town. We wave, they wave, we say hi, and so on. We get the ladders set up, the music going, and all we need is a tarp and some scrapers and we’re off. This is a mountain ski resort town in Colorado, so It’s a beautiful day. And increasingly so, the people in these towns, whether they be tourists or locals, dress more like they are on a beach in Southern California rather than at nine thousand feet. But the weather is conducive, so the attire is, shall we say, nice to look at because there’s less and less of it. Or as Cam points out to me, “she’s hot.” So despite what Cam is wearing, it really draws little to no attention specifically to her. Despite the fact that, “she’s hot too.” If you take notice, you take notice, but a short skirt is par for the course here. So up the ladder she goes.

No panties on, the view from below was, how shall I say this, enjoyable to say the least. And improved my typical workday by severfold. I’m being modest. It was fucking incredible. I’m a grateful guy in general, but this was like, “okay, I’m not sure how I conjured this into my life, but I’ll take it all day long!” She liked it, she knew it, she wanted it, but most of all, she enjoyed that I liked it. And liked it, I did. So much so in fact that I could hardly keep my hand off myself. In fact, the only time I did remove my hand was to take pictures and videos that we looked at together later. I’ll share one with you here.

Now I haven’t told you a story so far, rather, just something that happened. Setting up the scene so to speak. But what would a scene be without a story? I’ve told you about me. I’ve told you about my kinky little girlfriend. But what I haven’t told you might make your head explode. In the best way, of course. At least it made mine. But I’m vanilla, or so I think. I don’t know. You be the judge. But hang tight, it’s about to get good.

So we’d brought two ladders and set both of them up, but Cam insisted I be the ground person. Or that one of us only be on one ladder at a time. Because what I haven’t told you yet is that now it was my turn, and Cam made me wear very revealing shorts to work too. One of the ways we connected when we’d first met was our mutual dislike for wearing underwear. For me, when I was a teenager I stopped wearing briefs because I was chubby, and they were just uncomfortable. I tried boxers but still to this day I don’t know how people wear those things. They’re just so uncomfortable. So since I was fifteen years old - I’m forty-six now - I haven’t worn a pair of underwear one day. And Cam loved that. Easy access to the flopping penis, she tells me, is a wonderful thing for a girl like me.

So although rather uneventful in my estimation, Cam insisted that up the ladder you go, sir. Yes ma’am. So there I was, a dangling participle revealed for her viewing. And viewed, she did, with camera and all. That iPhone has an amazing zoom, she told me. Talk about uncomfortable. Cam would yell things below as people would pass by. “Throw down the hammer, David?!” Oh good lord. “”Hey, yur lookin’ good up there!” And, “David, do you need me to hold anything for you?” And, “Hey David, I think your balls are hanging out!” Some of her comments weren’t designed for cleverness, rather to provoke the passersby and embarrass me. It’s astounding what people don’t notice. I’m on a ladder with my giant old balls hanging from my tiny red shorts one block off of Main St. and no one notices even when she points them out. The irony being you know that if I were doing that and Cam wasn’t there…

I would throw comments up to her too in an attempt to out embarrass her. As if that were possible. I wasn’t quite as good at it though, and all I’d accomplish was to make her laugh. Which was awesome, but not what I was going for. “Hey lady, the moon is out!” Or, “I see you missed a spot!” I don’t even know what that one means. All Cam had to do was reference caulk all day. For me it was a bit more challenging. I either went from not making any sense at all to just embarrassing myself with all I was yelling up to her. “I see your butt!” And queue the disgusted look from the speed walker passing by. “Cam, I’m really not good at this, love!” She was literally crying from laughter at my stupid comments. And luckily she saved me by yelling out to the speed walker. Something to the effect of, “It’s okay, he’s a little retarded, but he’s got a nice penis!” Forgoing the caulk reference completely. The lady’s look turned from one of disdain to a crooked smirk very quickly. But then I got a good one in. “Hey Cam, I see a crack, do you want me to fill it in with my big white caulk?” Okay, when I say a good one, I mean a less retarded one. I know, we’re not supposed to use that word. But I don’t think mentally handicapped people meant, abolish the word completely. They themselves just don’t want to be called retarded. But me? I’ll take a little degradation. It’s fun for sex! And sex we did!

Cam’s skirt, per the way she liked it, would be pulled up high enough to where if you looked closely enough you could see her vagina. I know! Huh, funny. Cam and I are having a back and forth right now. When I type sometimes I speak it out loud. She loves that I’m writing this, but she’s correcting my sexual vernacular as I go. She wants me to call it a see-you-next-tuesday. No, she says. Arg! A cunt! It’s a cunt. Some people have vagina’s. Hers growls! Cam just growled at me. Lol. Anyway! The way she likes to wear her clothes is if someone’s going to notice, then let them. It’s such an interesting thing to witness though. Most people actually don’t. And the ones who do pretend they don’t. She’s not trying to cause anyone alarm or discomfort, and like I said, her attire actually blends in, but she is who she is and she enjoys pushing boundaries in herself. That’s what I love about her. Plus it doesn’t hurt that she’s stunning to look at for me. A very unassuming girl. And don’t get me wrong, it’s not as though she flaunts her vagi…cunt, but if that skirt flops just the right way as a set of eyes just happens upon a glance down there, you’re gonna pussy. She’s now telling me to call it her Baby-Boo. Oh, sorry. My Baby-Boo. Baby-Boo Cunt Muffin Sandwich. I don’t really know what that means but it all checks out to me! Now she’s trying to get in here to type. H afgd sh 78 39n87gdfs

Dear reedr SDg gbhbbkjcvkjbbbd

Good lord. She wants me to tell you what her cunt muffin looks like. Okay, I’m just gonna involve you on all the back and forth that’s going on here. Yes, I will tell them it’s young. Cam is twenty-three years old. We met a year ago. She moved in six months later. She does the dishes naked. She goes to the bathroom with the door open. She pees in the shower. She licks me everywhere. She calls her tits bumps because she says she doesn’t have any. They’re not boobs, they’re bumps. I personally love them. She’s now blushing. Wow, that’s a new one. And, yes, dear, her vagina is that of a seventeen year old hairless Mexican Chihuahua. I think those are two breeds mixed into one. She’s just being silly now. It looks like one of those pumped pussy’s. We watch a lot of porn together. Pumped pussy is actually quite hot. Hers looks like a hotdog bun. She’s telling me to tell you this. I personally think it’s more the length of a hotdog bun, and looks like a shaven pumped pussy. Cunt-Muffin, sorry. Anyway, It’s long and bald and quite puffy. And it jiggles when you smack it. But I’m not kidding, it’s really long. Like all the way from normal clit positioning to her asshole. She’s giggling now. Which brings me back to my point. If Cam bends over in public, game over. There it is. She’s telling me to call it her pussy.

Wait, so your vagina is your cunt and your asshole is your pussy?
Correct.
So what’s your mouth then?
You know what my mouth is!
Oh good lord. Okay, we won’t get into that. She wants me to tell you.
Tell them how you pee-pee in me.
Dear Reader, actually, you know what, this brings me right back to the story.
Yay, she says.
Okay, so.

We’re on the ladder. No, she’s on the ladder. She’s got me flustered now. Cam is on the ladder and she says she’s got to pee. Now I never know what to expect from this girl, but I know, it’s typically never what I thought. Because when I expect a torrent of piss to come flooding down from above, no. Instead what she does is pee into her empty coffee mug on the window ledge and hand it to me. Naturally I say, what now? Whatever you like, dear. What do I like, I wonder. I’m sure she’s wanting me to drink it. And honestly, it didn’t bother me all that much. But what I really wanted to do was shock her. Show her that all is not lost and I am learning to misbehave. So I dipped my cock head in and filled it to the brim. Took a sip and climbed it back to her. Okay, that was hot, she told me. But Cam being Cam, she finished it in several gulps, put the mug down and continued scraping. “You just drank piss,” I told her! To which she responded, It’s hot up here, and kept scraping. That was our first experience drinking from each other, it came out of nowhere, and it got me like nothing ever has before. I was instantly hooked. It was the hottest thing I’d ever seen a woman do. It spoke to me sexually in a way nothing ever had before. It was almost addictive to the point of definitely wanting to explore it more rather than less. And we explored. We are exploring now as I type this. Now it seems all we do is drink each other's piss. Which I gotta tell you, it’s the last thing I thought I’d ever do, (to drink and be drunk from) but the thing I’m enjoying the most. It’s intoxicating in a way I cannot quite sum up in words. Cam says, try it! You’ll like it or you won’t. Cam says make sure you drink lots of water. I agree. Drink lots of water if you’re going to piss in your girlfriend’s mouth, and vice-versa. But we drink so much pee that it’s hardly even sexual anymore. Cam says, “turns me on!” I agree, it turns me on too. But it’s more utilitarian at this point. We spend a ton of time together. That’s not to say we don’t spend time apart, but we’ve learned to love and more so, accept each other as is, so it’s fun. We can just be who we are with each other. And who we are has turned out to be a pee drinking couple, among other things. And we drink a lot of pee. We literally just drink from each other all the time. I don’t use the toilet anymore. And neither does she. We either pee in each other, on each other, in glasses or on ourselves. To which Cam just made slurping noises with her tongue out. Oh Good Lord. Okay I’m getting turned on now.

We share a lot. We’re both artists, we enjoy similar things such as peeing in the shower. I’m joking, not joking. But I think my point is that we enjoy being apart just as much as we enjoy being together. Because we enjoy what we do separately too. So when we come together, it’s from full and enjoyable lives that we love. But pee, right. It’s utilitarian at this point, but no less hot. We just pee anywhere all the time. Sometimes even without provocation or foresite. We’ll just be walking along the road and there’s piss running down Cam’s leg. Or I will pee my shorts while sitting across from her drinking our morning coffee in the garden. But most often we’re drinking it. I’ve drank so much of this girl’s pee I hardly drink anything more. And even when I’m drinking other things, Cam pees in them for me, and I in hers. But I think our favorite is directly in our mouths. And there’s no asking anymore. I got over that months ago. I just pee. No asking, no wishy-washy, just simply pee.

Despite popular belief, when you drink water, pee tastes like water. We’re both healthy, active, relatively fit people. So nothing weird there, like no weird taste or disease or anything like that. It’s just pee! And I like pee. Cam likes it too. Even once, okay now bare with me. We pee’d each other’s clothes. As in, soaked them through. Now even though you might think this is getting weird, or, weird sailed long ago, it’s our thing and we enjoy it. But clothes soaked through, they then hung out to dry until we were ready to wear them out. I think you know where I’m going with this. Yes we wore pissed dry clothes in public. Cam just chuckled to herself. Yes, honey, I know. Cam likes the smell, but I don’t really think it does. Or if it does I guess I like it too. It’s just kind of nice in this crazy world to have a secret in plain site like that. We have friends, jobs, dreams, aspirations, family, all of it. But at the end of the day we enjoy the piss. Cam calls it piss more than me. I say pee. Dick wine. Bladder nectar. She’s giving me these names now. Urethra juice. She’s asking me to tell you what I use her mouth as. I’d argue but…it’s my urinal. Her mouth is my urinal. My colastami sack. My toilet bowl. Okay I’m done now.

So Cam is telling me to tell you other things but I think I’ll save that for another story. I have to admit, this was fun, and cathartic. She’s my catheter, she says. Okay, we’re gonna go now. Cam says please try drinking pee and that it’s good for you to try new things. She’s waving, bye. Okay, until next time. Pee you later! Bye!!! Bye!

Camille came to work with me one day, a few months after we’d met. It was ladder work, which is why she wanted to come. I work alone mostly. And she likes being up on the ladder. I built a business taking care of people’s homes. When people ask me what I do for work, that’s what I tell them, I take care of people’s homes, but the real answer is so much more. On this day with Cam we’d be scraping window trim. But the next day is car transportation to and from the airport. And the day after is finding and fixing a small leak, but most likely replacing the dishwasher, and then repairing the flooring from the damage. Oh, and then I have to pick up clothes from a customer and allocate them elsewhere, but not before rebuilding a screen door and making and installing shelves for a local coffee shop. But on this day we’ll be on ladders scraping window trim. Which is why Cam wanted to come.

Cam stepped out of the bedroom that morning into the hall as I was exiting the bathroom. “How does this look?” She asked me. Referring to the outfit she chose to wear to work that day, she showcased it with an impromptu hallway-width catwalk turn. Unbelievable, I told her. “It’s not too long?” She asked. Referring to her skirt. Seems just right to me. Oh, good! She replied excitedly with a short hop and tail wiggle as she proceeded back into the bedroom to finish ablutions.

Camille is a short girl at five foot even, and very petite. She’s young and pretty with striking blue eyes and shoulder length dirty-blonde hair. But what attracted me to her most was and still is her playfulness. Cam doesn’t tend to take things too seriously, which I’m working on myself. Where I would maybe think far too long about something that simply doesn’t matter, Cam just goes for it and calls me a silly goose. And she’s got this ability to surprise me every time. Less so now as we’ve been together for sometime. But still from time to time she gets me. Like every day really. And to my weaning dismay, tending toward total approval to the point of following suit, ninety percent of the time her playfulness is sexual in nature, or rooted in some sort of sexual connotation. Sexual, kinky, naughty, taboo, and sometimes just downright filthy, she’s one hundred percent comfortable with her body, expressing herself sexually, speaking her mind, and she doesn’t wince easily. She’s a free flowing form of one hundred percent woman. She’s nice, she’s thoughtful, caring, loving, and an overtly naughty sex crazed being. Who wouldn’t love that.

For example: Now this is an extreme case, but it gives insight into who she is. Now let it be known, neither of us have a desire to play in this way, but Cam always jokes around in an attempt to push the boundaries, my buttons, and get me to loosen up more and more. SO we’re walking down the road one day and (Oh, God, I can’t believe I’m telling you this. Okay here goes.) So we’re walking down the road and I noticed some dried dog poop. I grabbed her and said, “Look out for the poop. Don’t step in it.” So she says to me, and I quote, “Dare me to lick it?” I’m like, Good Lord girl, no! “What’s the big deal? It’s just poop.” She told me. Question asked, question answered. - Now I need to tell you before I lose you here, this story is not about poop. I promise you. This is just an indicator into who she is. So Cam proceeds to get on her hands and knees, on the side of a fairly well trafficked road, and egg me on. And to boot, and I guess this is pertinent information, Cam doesn’t exactly believe in wearing underwear. I mean, she will if no other clothing is covering it. At which point she calls it outerwear. But if she’s wearing even the shortest of dresses or skirts, any other accompanying garments are out of the question. So there she is, this young, pretty, sexy thing, bent over on the side of a public road, her ass clearly visible to anyone who happens to pass by, daring me to dare her to lick dog poop. And if I say something such as referring to the fact that someone might see her. Her only reply ever is always in the vein of, let them see, somebody's gotta make the world a better place. It’s not that she wants people to see, or even goes out of her way to ensure that they do. But Cam is just being Cam, and what happens, happens. I aspire to her nature of play and carefreeness, especially when it comes to sex, or simply expressing myself. I’m getting there, and I’m becoming less reserved about it. That’s why I’m writing this. I told her I would.

Oh, good lord, she just came through the room, or pranced through is more like it. Panties on her head, and a bra around her crotch area. “Is this how you wear them, David?” She asked me. Um, no, but getting closer!

So we’re off to work. Now this is a real job with real work that needs to get done. Cam is a hard fucking worker too. Bright, intelligent, intuitive when it comes to getting shit done. What needs doing, where, when, how; all the things. This isn’t just play time. Or I should say, this isn’t solely play time. But as Cam says, most time is an opportunity for play time.

So we get to this house and Cam and I begin setting up for our day. Occasionally people are shuffling by. It’s a friendly town. We wave, they wave, we say hi, and so on. We get the ladders set up, the music going, and all we need is a tarp and some scrapers and we’re off. This is a mountain ski resort town in Colorado, so It’s a beautiful day. And increasingly so, the people in these towns, whether they be tourists or locals, dress more like they are on a beach in Southern California rather than at nine thousand feet. But the weather is conducive, so the attire is, shall we say, nice to look at because there’s less and less of it. Or as Cam points out to me, “she’s hot.” So despite what Cam is wearing, it really draws little to no attention specifically to her. Despite the fact that, “she’s hot too.” If you take notice, you take notice, but a short skirt is par for the course here. So up the ladder she goes.

No panties on, the view from below was, how shall I say this, enjoyable to say the least. And improved my typical workday by severfold. I’m being modest. It was fucking incredible. I’m a grateful guy in general, but this was like, “okay, I’m not sure how I conjured this into my life, but I’ll take it all day long!” She liked it, she knew it, she wanted it, but most of all, she enjoyed that I liked it. And liked it, I did. So much so in fact that I could hardly keep my hand off myself. In fact, the only time I did remove my hand was to take pictures and videos that we looked at together later. I’ll share one with you here.

Now I haven’t told you a story so far, rather, just something that happened. Setting up the scene so to speak. But what would a scene be without a story? I’ve told you about me. I’ve told you about my kinky little girlfriend. But what I haven’t told you might make your head explode. In the best way, of course. At least it made mine. But I’m vanilla, or so I think. I don’t know. You be the judge. But hang tight, it’s about to get good.

So we’d brought two ladders and set both of them up, but Cam insisted I be the ground person. Or that one of us only be on one ladder at a time. Because what I haven’t told you yet is that now it was my turn, and Cam made me wear very revealing shorts to work too. One of the ways we connected when we’d first met was our mutual dislike for wearing underwear. For me, when I was a teenager I stopped wearing briefs because I was chubby, and they were just uncomfortable. I tried boxers but still to this day I don’t know how people wear those things. They’re just so uncomfortable. So since I was fifteen years old - I’m forty-six now - I haven’t worn a pair of underwear one day. And Cam loved that. Easy access to the flopping penis, she tells me, is a wonderful thing for a girl like me.

So although rather uneventful in my estimation, Cam insisted that up the ladder you go, sir. Yes ma’am. So there I was, a dangling participle revealed for her viewing. And viewed, she did, with camera and all. That iPhone has an amazing zoom, she told me. Talk about uncomfortable. Cam would yell things below as people would pass by. “Throw down the hammer, David?!” Oh good lord. “”Hey, yur lookin’ good up there!” And, “David, do you need me to hold anything for you?” And, “Hey David, I think your balls are hanging out!” Some of her comments weren’t designed for cleverness, rather to provoke the passersby and embarrass me. It’s astounding what people don’t notice. I’m on a ladder with my giant old balls hanging from my tiny red shorts one block off of Main St. and no one notices even when she points them out. The irony being you know that if I were doing that and Cam wasn’t there…

I would throw comments up to her too in an attempt to out embarrass her. As if that were possible. I wasn’t quite as good at it though, and all I’d accomplish was to make her laugh. Which was awesome, but not what I was going for. “Hey lady, the moon is out!” Or, “I see you missed a spot!” I don’t even know what that one means. All Cam had to do was reference caulk all day. For me it was a bit more challenging. I either went from not making any sense at all to just embarrassing myself with all I was yelling up to her. “I see your butt!” And queue the disgusted look from the speed walker passing by. “Cam, I’m really not good at this, love!” She was literally crying from laughter at my stupid comments. And luckily she saved me by yelling out to the speed walker. Something to the effect of, “It’s okay, he’s a little retarded, but he’s got a nice penis!” Forgoing the caulk reference completely. The lady’s look turned from one of disdain to a crooked smirk very quickly. But then I got a good one in. “Hey Cam, I see a crack, do you want me to fill it in with my big white caulk?” Okay, when I say a good one, I mean a less retarded one. I know, we’re not supposed to use that word. But I don’t think mentally handicapped people meant, abolish the word completely. They themselves just don’t want to be called retarded. But me? I’ll take a little degradation. It’s fun for sex! And sex we did!

Cam’s skirt, per the way she liked it, would be pulled up high enough to where if you looked closely enough you could see her vagina. I know! Huh, funny. Cam and I are having a back and forth right now. When I type sometimes I speak it out loud. She loves that I’m writing this, but she’s correcting my sexual vernacular as I go. She wants me to call it a see-you-next-tuesday. No, she says. Arg! A cunt! It’s a cunt. Some people have vagina’s. Hers growls! Cam just growled at me. Lol. Anyway! The way she likes to wear her clothes is if someone’s going to notice, then let them. It’s such an interesting thing to witness though. Most people actually don’t. And the ones who do pretend they don’t. She’s not trying to cause anyone alarm or discomfort, and like I said, her attire actually blends in, but she is who she is and she enjoys pushing boundaries in herself. That’s what I love about her. Plus it doesn’t hurt that she’s stunning to look at for me. A very unassuming girl. And don’t get me wrong, it’s not as though she flaunts her vagi…cunt, but if that skirt flops just the right way as a set of eyes just happens upon a glance down there, you’re gonna pussy. She’s now telling me to call it her Baby-Boo. Oh, sorry. My Baby-Boo. Baby-Boo Cunt Muffin Sandwich. I don’t really know what that means but it all checks out to me! Now she’s trying to get in here to type. H afgd sh 78 39n87gdfs

Dear reedr SDg gbhbbkjcvkjbbbd

Good lord. She wants me to tell you what her cunt muffin looks like. Okay, I’m just gonna involve you on all the back and forth that’s going on here. Yes, I will tell them it’s young. Cam is twenty-three years old. We met a year ago. She moved in six months later. She does the dishes naked. She goes to the bathroom with the door open. She pees in the shower. She licks me everywhere. She calls her tits bumps because she says she doesn’t have any. They’re not boobs, they’re bumps. I personally love them. She’s now blushing. Wow, that’s a new one. And, yes, dear, her vagina is that of a seventeen year old hairless Mexican Chihuahua. I think those are two breeds mixed into one. She’s just being silly now. It looks like one of those pumped pussy’s. We watch a lot of porn together. Pumped pussy is actually quite hot. Hers looks like a hotdog bun. She’s telling me to tell you this. I personally think it’s more the length of a hotdog bun, and looks like a shaven pumped pussy. Cunt-Muffin, sorry. Anyway, It’s long and bald and quite puffy. And it jiggles when you smack it. But I’m not kidding, it’s really long. Like all the way from normal clit positioning to her asshole. She’s giggling now. Which brings me back to my point. If Cam bends over in public, game over. There it is. She’s telling me to call it her pussy.

Wait, so your vagina is your cunt and your asshole is your pussy?
Correct.
So what’s your mouth then?
You know what my mouth is!
Oh good lord. Okay, we won’t get into that. She wants me to tell you.
Tell them how you pee-pee in me.
Dear Reader, actually, you know what, this brings me right back to the story.
Yay, she says.
Okay, so.

We’re on the ladder. No, she’s on the ladder. She’s got me flustered now. Cam is on the ladder and she says she’s got to pee. Now I never know what to expect from this girl, but I know, it’s typically never what I thought. Because when I expect a torrent of piss to come flooding down from above, no. Instead what she does is pee into her empty coffee mug on the window ledge and hand it to me. Naturally I say, what now? Whatever you like, dear. What do I like, I wonder. I’m sure she’s wanting me to drink it. And honestly, it didn’t bother me all that much. But what I really wanted to do was shock her. Show her that all is not lost and I am learning to misbehave. So I dipped my cock head in and filled it to the brim. Took a sip and climbed it back to her. Okay, that was hot, she told me. But Cam being Cam, she finished it in several gulps, put the mug down and continued scraping. “You just drank piss,” I told her! To which she responded, It’s hot up here, and kept scraping. That was our first experience drinking from each other, it came out of nowhere, and it got me like nothing ever has before. I was instantly hooked. It was the hottest thing I’d ever seen a woman do. It spoke to me sexually in a way nothing ever had before. It was almost addictive to the point of definitely wanting to explore it more rather than less. And we explored. We are exploring now as I type this. Now it seems all we do is drink each other's piss. Which I gotta tell you, it’s the last thing I thought I’d ever do, (to drink and be drunk from) but the thing I’m enjoying the most. It’s intoxicating in a way I cannot quite sum up in words. Cam says, try it! You’ll like it or you won’t. Cam says make sure you drink lots of water. I agree. Drink lots of water if you’re going to piss in your girlfriend’s mouth, and vice-versa. But we drink so much pee that it’s hardly even sexual anymore. Cam says, “turns me on!” I agree, it turns me on too. But it’s more utilitarian at this point. We spend a ton of time together. That’s not to say we don’t spend time apart, but we’ve learned to love and more so, accept each other as is, so it’s fun. We can just be who we are with each other. And who we are has turned out to be a pee drinking couple, among other things. And we drink a lot of pee. We literally just drink from each other all the time. I don’t use the toilet anymore. And neither does she. We either pee in each other, on each other, in glasses or on ourselves. To which Cam just made slurping noises with her tongue out. Oh Good Lord. Okay I’m getting turned on now.

We share a lot. We’re both artists, we enjoy similar things such as peeing in the shower. I’m joking, not joking. But I think my point is that we enjoy being apart just as much as we enjoy being together. Because we enjoy what we do separately too. So when we come together, it’s from full and enjoyable lives that we love. But pee, right. It’s utilitarian at this point, but no less hot. We just pee anywhere all the time. Sometimes even without provocation or foresite. We’ll just be walking along the road and there’s piss running down Cam’s leg. Or I will pee my shorts while sitting across from her drinking our morning coffee in the garden. But most often we’re drinking it. I’ve drank so much of this girl’s pee I hardly drink anything more. And even when I’m drinking other things, Cam pees in them for me, and I in hers. But I think our favorite is directly in our mouths. And there’s no asking anymore. I got over that months ago. I just pee. No asking, no wishy-washy, just simply pee.

Despite popular belief, when you drink water, pee tastes like water. We’re both healthy, active, relatively fit people. So nothing weird there, like no weird taste or disease or anything like that. It’s just pee! And I like pee. Cam likes it too. Even once, okay now bare with me. We pee’d each other’s clothes. As in, soaked them through. Now even though you might think this is getting weird, or, weird sailed long ago, it’s our thing and we enjoy it. But clothes soaked through, they then hung out to dry until we were ready to wear them out. I think you know where I’m going with this. Yes we wore pissed dry clothes in public. Cam just chuckled to herself. Yes, honey, I know. Cam likes the smell, but I don’t really think it does. Or if it does I guess I like it too. It’s just kind of nice in this crazy world to have a secret in plain site like that. We have friends, jobs, dreams, aspirations, family, all of it. But at the end of the day we enjoy the piss. Cam calls it piss more than me. I say pee. Dick wine. Bladder nectar. She’s giving me these names now. Urethra juice. She’s asking me to tell you what I use her mouth as. I’d argue but…it’s my urinal. Her mouth is my urinal. My colastami sack. My toilet bowl. Okay I’m done now.

So Cam is telling me to tell you other things but I think I’ll save that for another story. I have to admit, this was fun, and cathartic. She’s my catheter, she says. Okay, we’re gonna go now. Cam says please try drinking pee and that it’s good for you to try new things. She’s waving, bye. Okay, until next time. Pee you later! Bye!!! Bye!

Strictly fantasy.Shoeplay strangler. I like to pick my victims at random as i catch them shoeplaying. I love feet, snuff, bondage and all. The smell, the feel all of it. So when i catch a woman shoeplaying all i can do is fantasize. I was a maintenance guy at a college where there are always over the age limit pretty girls around. One particular day we had a ceremony held in one of the conference rooms for the students moving into sr yr. They had to dress up as they were presented an award for their next step. As i sat in the back just watching waiting for it to end so i could clean up i gazed at the women standing in line waiting to get their award and thats when i saw her. Very attractive young woman short brown hair, white button up shirt, black knee length skirt, pantyhose and black heels. She was standing sliding her foot in and out of her shoe. I became instantly hard i could barely control myself. What i would give to have my face buried in her nyloned feet at that time. I had to leave the room as there were too many people around for me to not be seen with my cock about to bulge out of my pants. So i made the decision then that she would be my victim. I knew exactly where she lived as i had done work on the next house over from hers on campus and i had seen her there. I knew most of the peoples schedules as this was a small college and i knew what time classes ended, and classes ended after i got off so i had plenty of time to get there and be ready when she arrived. As i got off i went down to her house and parked in a public area so my vehicle wouldnt be noticed i grabed my maintenance bag that had tape, rope and all in it so i would look official. I went around to the back and found the door unlocked how lucky for me. I walked through the house to explore and into her bedroom i went. There i ruffled through her drawers finding nylons and socks that that might come in handy later. I also went through her dirty laundry and found some gym socks that i would be keeping for later pleasure. I looked at my watch and saw she should be home in a few minutes so i lied in wait until i heard her door open. I grew hard and my heart pumped as i couldnt hardly control my self as i heard her fumbling in the kitchen not a clue of me being there. I heard her start down the hallway the sound of her heels against the floor. As she entered the room i jumped out and grabbed her holding her tight and my hand over her mouth. She screamed and kicked and we had a momentarily fight as we knocked stuff off her dresser and into the floor but i over powered her quickly. She was frantic but i told her to shut up shut up or i will kill you. She finally started to calm down. I told her if she cooperates she will be fine. She whimpered but agreed. I told her that i was going to remove my hand from her mouth and ordered her to lie face down on her bed. She did so hesitant and still whimpering. She begged me not to hurt her. I told her again to shut up. I told her to put her hands behind her back. I grabbed a roll of black electrical tape i had with me and tied her hands behind her back. I then grabbed a sock and a pair of pantyhose that i had gotten from her drawer and stuffed the sock in her mouth and tied the pantyhose around her head for a cleave gag. She whimpered and tried to speak through the gag. She still had one shoe on as she lost the other one in the struggle. I slowly ran my hand down her leg to her foot to take it off. I was so hard at this point i couldnt hardly keep from exploding in my pants. I smelled her pantyhosed feet. The sweat and aroma was breathtaking. I could go any longer without exploding so i finished exploring her legs and feet and decided it was time for my final ultimate fantasy on her. Those pantyhose are going to look so good around her neck. I reached under her skirt to the top and pulled them off of her fine smooth legs and feet. I grabbed my tape and bound her ankles together. I wanted to hear her gurgle and strangle so i took the gag out of her mouth. She cried and pleaded with me to not hurt her. I told her to lif her head up. She didnt know why, but as she did i wrapped her pantyhose around her neck and pulled as hard as i could. She began to convulse and kick her tied feet profusely. Nooo noo ehhhhhhhhhhhh eaahhhhhh eaahhhhh. Oh what a great feeling this was listening to her strangle and struggle as i pulled on the pantyhose that dug into her neck. I couldnt control myself i exploded as i rode her pulling tighter and tighter. She finally started to slow down and slip away. I held this position for a good 5 minutes to make sure she was gone. I unwrapped the pantyhose as i would be taking them and her heels as a trophy and put them in my bag. I didnt want to mae any mistake and her wake up so i grabbed a clear garbage bag out of my bag i had and put it over her head and used the pantyhose as i used for a gag and wrapped them around her neck as tight as i could get to cinch the bag down. She didnt move she was done. As i stepped back i couldnt help to get one more nut as i was still rock hard i pulled my dick out and put it between her tied feet and stroked untill i exploded all over her soles. I walked out of the room as my cum dripped slowly off her feet and onto the floor. Cant wait for the next one

I have a foot fetish. Kind of. I'm into toe sucking or sole licking. Maybe a few kisses and maybe an occasional footjob. But, I think feet can be sexy. When I see a girl with nice feet, I look at pictures of her not wearing shoes, or wearing open toe shoes, etc.

I don't really tell people because there's such a stigma for liking feet. Even though its only barely a fetish.

I love giving men footjobs. I love to oil up his bone-hard, naked cock and watch it leak precum out of a gorgeous mushroom-shaped head. I love the feel of that hard cock on the soles of my bare feet. I love it as he twitches from pleasure. I love it as he orgasms and shoots hot sticky cum all over my feet and toes. Or, if I am on my back holding my soles together as he fucks the space in the arches between them, I totally love watching streams of cum shoot out the end of his cock on my stomach, chest, and sometimes face. I love guys with foot fetishes since it gives me yet another way to please them.